


konbini onigiri miya

by keijibeam



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, cooking/eating/food as a love language, not dumb or corny or silly in any way whatsoever, seriously serious angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28826700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keijibeam/pseuds/keijibeam
Summary: Keiji’s hand dropped to the counter. He raised an eyebrow. “You went through my garbage.”“Yup.” The eyes that stared at Keiji beneath the brim of the black Onigiri Miya cap were seething with -- well, with a variety of emotions. The most prominent of which seemed to be a quiet, Keiji-focused rage. “Gonna ‘fess up now?”--osamu discovers keiji's deepest, darkest, most secretive secret.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 7
Kudos: 103





	konbini onigiri miya

**Author's Note:**

> when i say serious non-corny angst what i mean is this is pure, unadulterated Fluff

It was a quiet evening at Onigiri Miya. The place was typically packed with noisy, cheerful patrons, especially on days the Black Jackals had practice, but there were evenings like this on occasion. Evenings quiet enough for Keiji to keep a booth all to himself, where he could stretch out and read a novel or pour over Udai’s latest work-in-progress without interruption. He hadn’t said hello to Osamu yet, but Osamu knew he would be there. At this time of week, at this time of day, Keiji always waited at Onigiri Miya until he closed shop. Osmau knew to expect him.

As the last customers shuffled out, he caught Osamu’s eye at the counter and smiled, waved. Osamu didn’t react; instead, he turned back to his work. Keiji smiled, quietly acknowledging Osamu’s work ethic as he turned back to his book and sipped his tea.

Two part-timers made their way through the front of the shop -- wiping down tables, collecting garbage, turning over chairs. Every worker there was familiar with Keiji by now and knew to work around him come closing time. Keiji greeted them both with a smile, but his warmth was not returned. They aimed tight-lipped grins in his direction but avoided his gaze. The tension in their expressions concerned him enough that he considered reaching out to cheer them up, but his concerns over appropriateness stopped him. Was it right for him to pry into their lives when he had such a personal relationship with their employer?

They were gone before he could decide either way. Whatever had upset them had certainly motivated them to work quickly.

Osamu was at the counter, counting the till. It looked like all of the other employees had left. The store was empty now except for the two of them. It was well past closing time, but Osamu always kept the shop open late for him. Keiji gathered his things and took them to the counter. Osamu’s eyes flickered towards him and then back to the till, but that was all the attention he received as he walked over.

“Tensions seem a little high tonight,” Keiji commented as he set his things down in the seat beside him. “Your workers seemed anxious. Did something happen?”

That granted him another brief glance, but Osamu stayed silent.

“I see. It must have been difficult, whatever happened.”

Osamu paused; his hands settled against the counter and Keiji reached his own out. His fingers could only skim the back of Osamu’s wrist before he pulled away, turning to occupy himself with a new task.

“Osamu?”

”I know, Keiji.”

“You know? You mean, you know what troubles your staff?”

“Your secret. I figured it out.”

“Um. My secret?” Keiji pulled his hands back and folded them in his lap. “I wasn’t aware I had one.”

Osamu turned back around to face him, his arms folded across his chest. His expression was blank. “Don’t play dumb.”

“Unless you mean the collection of overdue library books I’ve accumulated,” Keiji said, shaking his head, “I really don’t know what you mean.” He reached out again, cupping Osamu’s elbow in his hand. All of the muscles in Osamu’s arm, all of the muscles in his body, were tense. Keiji rubbed his thumb back and forth, hoping to alleviate some of that pressure. “What is it?”

“You’ve been sneakin’ around.” There was no emotion to Osamu’s voice, no clues written on his face to give his thoughts away. “Sneakin’ around behind my back.”

“Sneaking…?”

Osamu’s eyes rolled as he turned his face away. “Really gonna pretend like ya haven’t been cheatin’, huh? Give me a break. I found the wrappers in the trash.”

Keiji’s hand dropped to the counter. He raised an eyebrow. “You went through my garbage.”

“Yup.” The eyes that stared at Keiji beneath the brim of the black Onigiri Miya cap had come to life, and seethed with -- well, with a variety of emotions. The most prominent of which was a quiet, Keiji-focused rage. “Gonna ‘fess up now?”

The excuses, lies, and half-truths he could contrive in order to assuage Osamu ran through his mind, but what was the point? Osamu already had the evidence. There was no point in trying to hide it.

“Confess to what? You couldn’t have possibly thought you were the only one.”

Osamu’s hands slammed against the counter. His palms laid flat, still, unwavering against the wooden surface that trembled beneath them. “The hell I couldn’t.”

Huffing through his nose, Keiji turned away, feeling ashamed at having been caught so easily while also agitated at having to defend himself. “There are some things you simply cannot offer me, Osamu.”

“What’re you gettin’ elsewhere that I can’t give ya?”

“It’s…” Keiji sighed, propped his elbows against the table and rested his chin in his hands. “It’s a sense of nostalgia, I suppose. Like I’m back in high school.”

“Haven’t I provided for you? Ain’t I enough? Hey, Keiji, look at me.”

Keiji couldn’t help but oblige his demand. It wasn't only rage he found in Osamu’s eyes when their gazes met then. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It isn’t about your abilities, Osamu.” And then he felt foolish for giving in to that look of betrayal, because, really, what had he done wrong? He had made no promise of exclusivity to Osamu, or to anyone else. Even so, that look stung when directed at him.

Osamu’s eyes finally softened as he pulled back, took his cap off, and ran his hand through his hair. “You say that,” he sighed, “but it’s hard not to take this kinda thing personally, y’know?” He crossed his arms and bowed his head in thought.

Keiji reached across the counter, covering Osamu’s hand with his, encircling Osamu’s wrist with his fingers. “Osamu?” Two eyes peered at him from beneath the brim of his cap. “May I stay? Or...would you like me to leave?”

Osamu took Keiji’s hand, examining it with his thumb as he smoothed over his skin, and Keiji saw a glimmer of hope in their interlocked hands. “Don’t leave. You’re hungry, right? I’ll at least feed ya, like usual.”

“That’s not necessary,” Keiji started, but Osamu was already gone, his back disappearing behind the curtain that separated the kitchen from the front of the shop.

Once alone, Keiji had the opportunity to fully process Osamu’s reaction. He didn’t seem exactly _furious_ , but his expressions of anger had always been of a muted variety (unless directed at his brother.) The sort of dish Osamu would prepare in such a state, he couldn’t begin to imagine. Still, it was certainly safe to eat. Osamu wouldn’t outright poison him, Keiji was sure of that.

Well. He was mostly sure.

Keiji was startled as Osamu reappeared from behind the curtain, much too quickly for him to have prepared a dish but still holding a plate full of -- full of something familiar-looking.

They were shaped like onigiri. The plastic wrapped around them made them look nearly identical to onigiri straight from the convenience store -- at least, that’s how they looked until Osamu set the plate on the counter in front of Keiji. At first, he wondered if the plate full of konbini onigiri was a vicious parting gift from Osamu before being dumped, but then he noticed the pattern on the wrapping. There was a cute design covering the plastic wrap, floating flowers and bubbles drifting around a smiling face. No text was present to indicate identifying information, such as fillings, nutrition facts, brand. Besides the design of the packaging, the wrapping looked sloppier than pre-packaged onigiri. It looked as if someone had tried to re-wrap them after opening them, or as if someone had done a clumsy job of hand-wrapping them --

“Osamu! Is this your onigiri?”

A sheepish, bashful expression spread across Osamu’s face as he pulled off his cap again, scratching the side of his head. “You prefer the ones from the convenience store, don’tcha?”

Keiji lifted the plate, agape as he stared and appraised. “I’m touched. I can’t believe you did this.” He set the plate down and beamed at Osamu. “But I already told you: it’s not a matter of preference. I appreciate both convenience store onigiri _and_ Onigiri Miya’s onigiri, each for their own unique traits.”

“Yeah, yeah. Still. Can’t stand to let you eat someone else’s onigiri.” He nudged the plate, pushing it closer to Keiji. “I picked up the same ones I found wrappers for. Did my best to replicate ‘em.”

“They look wonderful.” Keiji picked one up, tugging on the plastic wrap. “Apart from the wrapping, that is.”

“Tch. We don’t wrap ours in plastic, alright? I had to watch a lot of tutorials. I’ve been pissed about it all day.” Osamu planted his hands on his hips, looking defiantly at Keiji. “You gonna dock points for that?”

“Can’t say. I’ll have to taste it first.” As he took the first bite, Osamu watched him. His posture was relaxed, but his eagerness shone through in his eyes. “Mmm. Salmon?” Keiji took another bite, chewing slowly and enjoying the way Osamu’s expression shifted as he waited for Keiji’s verdict. “It’s delicious as always, Osamu.”

One half of Osamu’s mouth curled in a satisfied, crooked grin.

Keiji rose from his stool, leaned over the counter and pressed a kiss to Osamu’s cheek. “But it’s still nothing like konbini onigiri.”

Osamu let out a soft, derisive cough and grabbed an onigiri, yanking on the tab and ripping it open. He took a large bite, closed his eyes, and sighed in satisfaction. “Can’t believe you still eat that convenience store shit when I’m offering you _this_.”

“I can’t help myself,” Keiji confessed as he licked the rice and salt off of his lips. “When it comes to quality, though, your onigiri are clearly superior in every physical aspect.”

“Just the physical ones?”

“I said so already, didn’t I? It’s nostalgic. High school was a meaningful time for both of us, don’t you agree?”

Osamu cocked his head to the side, lifted his eyebrows in concession, and took another bite.

“Onigiri from the convenience store,” Keiji continued, “has the same taste as my childhood ambitions. It tastes like the ache of my muscles after volleyball practice, the whole team dragging their exhausted bodies behind Bokuto-san as he charged toward the convenience store. I always picked up extra onigiri to eat on the train ride home. That taste...it feeds my soul. But your onigiri...”

As he paused to take his last bite, his eyes met Osamu’s. His gaze was expectant, affectionate, as Keiji licked his fingers clean. He smiled and leaned across the counter to kiss Osamu with his mouth still full of rice. He waited until he had swallowed to speak, because he still maintained some manners, if not others. “The taste of your onigiri quells my hunger, but it is equally fulfilling to my heart.”

That half-cocked grin returned, and Keiji admired it with adoration.

“You truly had me fooled, Osamu.” He pulled the tab off his second onigiri, wondering what the filling would be as the wrapping fell apart. “I thought you might break up with me for eating someone else’s onigiri, but you were teasing me.”

“I said so already, didn’t I?” Osamu grabbed Keiji’s wrist, yanked it towards himself while he lunged forward, and took half of Keiji’s onigiri in one bite. “I can’t stand to let you eat someone else’s onigiri.” Rice flew from his mouth and onto the countertop. It would have to be wiped down again, Keiji noted. “But you made a good case, so I’ll let it slide. For now,” he added.

Then, it was Osamu who pressed his lips against Keiji’s, still grinning and with a mouth full of rice. Keiji smiled in return, wrapping his onigiri-holding arm around Osamu’s neck to pull him closer. He didn’t mind the rice that fell onto his lips or slid down his chin as Osamu rolled his head to the side, pressing salty kisses against Keiji’s cheek. It was his favorite flavor, after all: the taste of Onigiri Miya.

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading sorry @ osaaka nation
> 
> find me on tumblr or twitter @boomairspike


End file.
